


waiting at your backdoor

by mrecookies



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Calligraphy, Cheerleading Uniform Kink, Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrecookies/pseuds/mrecookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walt wakes up to find scribbles on his lower back. Ray tells all about Walt's (and Ray's, to be honest) kink(s). Wrestling ensues on the part of the two, while Brad and Nate just have to deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waiting at your backdoor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etacanis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etacanis/gifts).



> For Amy, because she is awesome.

It's mid-morning when Walt wakes up, Ray pillowed on his chest. He smiles, because Ray with his mouth open is pretty cute, but the fondness quickly turns into disgust when he realizes that Ray is fucking _drooling_ on him. Walt grunts as he pushes against Ray's body; Ray is a skinny motherfucker, but it's all lean muscle and extremely clingy arms. After a few minutes of struggling, Ray ends up facedown on the bed, still drooling, and Walt actually has to catch his fucking breath, because Ray is a _persistent_ skinny motherfucker even in sleep.

The smile returns when Ray lets out a snort against the sheets, tattooed arms reaching out to grab the blankets in a hug. Walt shakes his head and pads quietly to the small bathroom, wincing at the ache in his back and thighs. He lets out a small moan at the smell of coffee—Nate and Brad must be up—and splashes cold water on his face, blearily staring at his reflection in the mirror. He stretches his sore muscles out, rubbing at his neck where Ray's perfect misaligned teeth left their mark last night. He's half-twisted towards the towel rack when he catches the black scribbles out of the corner of his eye. Walt ends up looking like a fucking dog trying to catch its fucking tail as he tries futilely to read whatever Ray has written on his lower back.

He fumes for a little while, freezing when wiry arms wrap themselves around his waist. Ray's stubble scratches at his neck, deliberately brushing against the bite mark, and his dark eyebrows quirk upwards at Walt in the mirror.

"Need a hand, homes?" Ray's inquisitive fingers are already scratching at the waistband of his boxers, less than a minute away from reaching down and—

"Ray, what the fuck did you write on my back?" Walt blurts out, turning around to grab Ray's wrists.

"Can't remember. Show me your ass again," Ray says, leering, leaning against the door.

Walt feels Ray's fingers trace the words on the thin skin covering his spine, and resists the urge to kick back when Ray inevitably smacks his ass.

Ray is grinning when Walt is facing him again. "Sorry, dude. Can't help you there; handwriting's trashed when I'm fucking trashed, and last night was _ah_ -mazing in terms of the booze and the sex. Speaking of mindblowing sex—" He waggles his fingers and reaches for Walt's groin.

Walt shoves him out of the bathroom.  


*

  
"Really, Ray? Taylor Swift?"

Ray looks defensive and abashed all at once. "I said I was trashed, okay. Not my fucking fault that the radio was blasting that shitty excuse for proper country music—shut the fuck up, Brad—when I was all vulnerable and shit. Seriously, what the fuck is that piece-of-shit teenage angst song anyway?"

"Nate says he saw you sneak in with the marker at five in the morning, and that you two had a perfectly sober conversation about the desecration of Halloween before that," Walt says, grinning when Ray actually blushes.

Nate pointedly ignores Ray's glare, sipping at his coffee with his messenger bag on his lap. Brad just grunts and continues to read his newspaper beside Nate, his look of disdain clear even through the business section.

"Yeah well, you do belong with me, homes. And I bet you'd look all hot in a cheerleader's outfit. Fuck, dude, maybe you should go as that for Halloween!" Ray's eyes light up, and Walt lunges at him, because _fuck no_ ; there are things you can say in front of your best friends and there are some things that should remain locked in your preferably soundproofed bedroom with your infuriating boyfriend. Ray dodges his attempts to cover his mouth, and dances spryly away. "You know you'd like it, Hasser, you kinky shit, you told me that last night. Booze and sex, motherfucker, are the fucking best. I bet you'd look all athletic and coy and innocent with your stomach bared and your happy trail leading down into your skirt, and I bet you'd _love_ the panties rubbing against your—mmmf!"

The sense of triumph that Walt gets from finally pinning Ray to the floor battles with his embarrassment, because he can feel Brad hitting himself with the newspaper and Nate attempting to drown himself in coffee. Ray licks his palm, and Walt can't help but snarl at him, pressing his hips down harder, and _fuck_ —Ray's eyebrows twitch in amusement, and his hands run up Walt's back to rub against the damned words written on his skin.

"I'm… going in to work," Brad's voice floats down the hallway, sounding resigned more than anything. "You two ingrates better fucking be there within the hour." There's an exchange of murmurs, and then the door slams shut.

Nate's head appears around the corner. "In Ray's defense, Walt, you'd probably look good in a cheerleading outfit." Walt is never having sex with Ray again. "I'm off to class. Don't dirty the floor, or at least clean the fuck up after yourselves. And Brad says that you definitely belong with each other, and that he's sad for, and I quote, 'dear Walter, because he still deserves better than sucking Person's syphilis-ridden dick till the end of time'. Make of that what you will."  


*

  
After the front door shuts for the second time, Walt finally removes his hand from Ray's mouth, and wipes the saliva off on his boxers.

"You're an asshole," he says at last, pressing his palms down on Ray's chest.

"You like it. You like _me_." Ray's smug smile only grows wider when Walt groans and buries his head in Ray's neck, the angle weird but comforting. "I'm awesome."

**Author's Note:**

> The references are to Taylor Swift's _You Belong with Me_ ; my head!Ray means no offense to whoever enjoys her songs. Mostly.
> 
> P.S. The title slays me. Oh, Ray.


End file.
